Silver Sugar Bowl

All of the silver dishes belonged to my mom before she married my dad. She said they were given to her my a friend of her dads when she was a teenager.

Where I Was

May 1979. I can still feel the freezing cold of the water as I walked through the stream to the dunes. The warmth of the sun and the chill of the morning breeze. The quietness broken only by the occasional laughter and voices of other visitors. It was a time of change. One stage of life ending and another beginning. A return to civilian life after 9 1/2 years in the Navy.

I purchased a postcard at the gift shop that I still have posted on the bulletin board next to my computer. It included a few words written by Ann Zwinger ". . . even in winter there is the promise of spring. . . The white of snow becomes the white of summer clouds. . . part of each season is contained in every other."

Anyone care to venture a guess as to where this picture was taken? A little hint, western United States ;-)

Update May 21, .. 11:00 a.m

Craig Manson of Geneablogie fame has correctly identified the above scene as the Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve. Located in the southwest corner of Colorado, it is an amazing area. It's on my list of places to visit, again. Someday.

Some incredibly nice photographs:
http://www.nps.gov/archive/grsa/resources/photos_dunes.htm

Children's artwork inspired by the dunes:
http://www.nps.gov/archive/grsa/artwork.htm

Links to more photographs:
http://www.nps.gov/archive/grsa/resources/photos.htm

There are a lot of other nice websites, just do a search for Great Sand Dunes...

Enjoying the Unexpected

This post, "Enjoying the Unexpected", was written for my blogspot blog called The Transplantable Rose by Annie in Austin.

Sometimes the things you plant surprise you in good ways - that's what happened here a few times this week. The temperatures are now in the high 80's, even the late iris are almost done and the phlox foliage is about 8" tall, so the season should be early summer in this part of the long fence bed. Look who just showed up-
This is a 'Pink Pride' daffodil, one of a dozen bulbs planted last fall. The bulbs made foliage but I'd given up hope of seeing a bloom.



My daughter and son-in-law had a mini-rose sent to me last year for Mothers Day - they didn't get a choice of color but knew it would be pretty. The shipment had a rough ride from the organic grower in California but the rose recovered enough to make a couple of buds, in a pale peach color.

Because of last summers flooding rain I kept the mini-rose in a container so it wouldn't drown. It didn't bloom again but branched out and then when cold weather came it lost all its leaves. I kept it in the pot, bringing it in the garage whenever we dipped below freezing.






The rose leafed out early this spring and I planted it near the blue scabiosa and the coppery orange ranunculus. Here's the first rose - not a pale peach, but a color like the inside of a melon, which blends perfectly in this border!

I wonder if the more intense color is a response to more heat and sunlight? I don't see any other buds but the whole plant seems to have more substance and vigor since it left the container. Maybe it will take a little longer for this little rose to settle in and display its true color.

You've already seen the true color of the Schlumbergera/Thanksgiving cactuses - they all bloomed in the breakfast window last winter. Once the chance of frost was low, I moved three of them out to the veranda for the summer. All three plants made another set of buds which are now opening. Very unexpected!


Larkspur is one of my favorite annuals - one reason I love the meadow at Zanthan Gardens. I bought double lilac larkspur seeds in fall .. after we had the long fence bed started, and threw them around. For three springs they've sprouted and grown, and usually bloomed, but the flowers in Central Austin usually bloom a few weeks earlier than mine here in NW Austin. Larkspur like air and sun so last year's wet spring made their flowering season very short. The double lilac larkspur are blooming now and have reached new heights - I'm 5'6" on a good day and my larkspur are taller than I am. Having larkspur the size of delphiniums was a good surprise for me!

The next unexpected thing was what I ate for lunch today...a radish sandwich. I pulled a few radishes and washed them, then cut them up. I tasted a couple of slices and found them crisp with a good bite.

Next I buttered whole wheat toast, adding layers of thinly sliced radish and a little romaine lettuce. The sandwich was delicious, crunchy but mellow - not hot. The unexpected part isn't that the sandwich tasted good. The unexpected part is that I might never have tried this if another garden blogger, Yolanda Elizabet in Holland, hadn't described her lunch a few weeks ago. Thank you, Yolanda!


Have you ever planted a seed from an apple or orange or the pit from a cherry or peach? Garden experts will tell you not to bother doing this when starting the home orchard - to always buy a named tree instead.
But my nephew and his parents weren't planning a home orchard a few years ago - they just wanted to find out if something special could happen. Grandma had ordered a box of luscious Harry & David peaches for the whole family and after enjoying the fruit Jake and his mom & dad ceremoniously planted the peach pit in the back yard. The peach seed sprouted and grew and was watched over. Last year it was swaddled in net to protect it from the Seventeen Year cicadas.

Now in its 3rd Spring, the peach is taller than Jake's Dad, and it has chosen to bless my sister's family with a cloud of pink blossoms.
My nephew is justly proud of starting the tree and I'm impressed that my family believed in the power of a seed. Thanks for letting me use your photos, Jake! Whether or not this particular family tree ever bears edible peaches, it's a fine thing to see after a long hard Chicago winter.

This post, "Enjoying the Unexpected", was written for my blogspot blog called The Transplantable Rose by Annie in Austin.

I know what you did last summer

Nasturtium.

I've mentioned before that we grew some edible flowers, Sakata Sweet melons, and Tigger melons last year.

Here are a few of the other things we tried for the first time.


Plum Granny.
Supposed to be an heirloom "pocket" melon. (Somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a clementine.) I read that they were grown primarily for scent. They're so bland as to be inedible. They did smell great, but weren't as strong as I'd hoped. Nothing approaching the scent level of daffodils, say. It may vary with growing conditions but I doubt I'll try them again. Some little critters definitely like to eat them -- I think it was the most munched-on thing in the garden.


Japanese eggplant.
We liked these much better than traditional eggplants. They seemed less likely to grow bitter, and were more versatile for cooking just because of their size. We'll definitely grow these again.


Triamble squash.
A winter squash. I ordered these seeds purely based on the look of the pictures, which were idealized to say the least. Still, it's an interesting looking vegetable. But hard, hard, hard to cut. It tastes good, and keeps forever, but I really should have realized that ten-pound squashes were a little much for two people.


Top view.


Profile view.
These were really picked too soon. (The stem should be dry first.)

I couldn't find a picture, but we also grew lemon cucumbers. I was under the impression that they had a lemony taste, but the name just refers to the size (and color, somewhat). They tasted good enough, but did get bitter sometimes. Plus they have tiny hairs or spines that were difficult to rub off. And they didn't keep well at all -- one day, tops. So, back to white cucumbers for me.

If last year was the year of melon experimentation, this will be the year of the squash! More on that later.

Leavenworth Trip ...

Adam and I did a three day weekend in the Leavenworth area finishing with helping out Matt with field trip on Sunday.

We took a midday ride out on Friday for some cragging at Clem's Holler. Arrived around Noon and headed up the steep trail. We had lofty goals of climbing some nice sport climbs, but decided to warm up on the first two pitches of Playin' Possum. Doing only the first two pitches keeps it at a reasonable 5.8 instead of the .10a rating it has for continuing onto the third pitch. I led the first pitch, and Adam led the second. While the climbing was not particularly difficult, my head wasn't totally in the lead, and I had to hang a bit at one point (mostly to rest my feet) before continuing upward. After completing the climb, I was not exactly ready to tackle the harder projects, so Adam and I went searching for Arselips and Elbows (5.8) a 14" wide top rope crack.

According to the book, Arselips is "up and left" of The Hatchet. We found it to be generally left, and that dropping down into a meadow was a more sane way of reaching said climb. We first attempted with some exposed moves on grassy ledges before dropping to the meadow and coming back up. I'm pretty sure we were mostly following goat trails. The terrain was sometimes steep, and had a thick coating of ponderosa needles on it adding to the slippery factor. Plenty of sticker bushes in the area too. You have to persevere to get to this climb. Once there, we had an easy hike up to the bolts to set up a top rope. Then it was time for the groveling to begin.

Looking up from the base

The opening moves were on the face while stepping on boulders to gain the crack. Once at the top foothold on the outside, it was time to move in. I found the chicken wing very secure, but it took a fair amount of trial and error to get some sort of secure leg into the crack. The left side of the crack is also a loose corner, with a small finger crack, but I did not feel too comfortable grabbing on it as I was afraid to pull it off. Inside the crack it was narrow, and a deep breath could mostly keep my in my place. I realized after some struggling that I had to exhale to make moving up easier. In my first attempt, I managed to gain the crack and move a few centimeters off the outside rock before needing my left foot to do something. I took a rest while Adam gave it a shot.

About to leave the outside world

Adam gave the crack a try and made no further progress than I did. He tried it first in his trail runners figuring that would give him an advantage. After his attempt, he decided his next attempt would be with rock shoes. I gave it a second go with a result of getting about six inches higher than my previous attempt. I was able to successfully use my left arm and leg in the attempt, but found the upward progress too much of a struggle to continue further. Adam gave it one last try and it looked something like this:

He's in there

After getting to roughly the same height I did, Adam melted out of the crack and I lowered him to the ground. We both agreed that that was the most effort we have ever put forth to move two inches! I thought I could get up any 5.8 in Leavenworth on top rope. Apparently, this climb proved me wrong. After our struggles, we called it a day and headed back to the car. Our sport climbing objectives at Clem's Holler could wait for another day.

We awoke late (8am) on Saturday, and had breakfast in camp. By the time we packed up camp, it was about to rain and when we arrived at parking for our intended destination for the day (Peek-a-Boo Tower) there was a light rain. Looking west made us concerned so we drove to the mouth of the canyon hoping for better weather. We stopped in the Snow Creek parking lot and by the time we rolled out of there, it was raining as well. So we headed to Peshastin again.

It appeared that others had the same idea when it started to rain in Leavenworth, and many small parties of climbers dashed out of the parking lot to get to climbs quickly. We were in no rush and decided to climb Windward which we figured no one was running to. When we got there, I was not too enthused about leading it and we decided to walk around to see if we could get on something else. When we arrived at Dinosaur, and saw no one on Potholes, we jumped on it. Adam had me lead the first (5.8) pitch and he said he would decide at the belay about leading the second (5.7) pitch. I personally have always found the second pitch harder, but that may just be me. No real surprised on Potholes except for me having more difficulty this year with the crux of the first pitch. And Adam getting a good chuckle from watching me struggle with the final moves to the anchor. We rapped off and headed to Grand Central Tower to climb the West Face.

Adam past the first bulge on Potholes second pitch

It was nice to finally lead the West Face and not have any trouble on it. Well, no trouble climbing it. There was a party that was off route on Nirvana Ridge that kept raining sand down onto us. It does not make for a comforting lead. Adam followed, and even got hit by a slightly bigger rock on the way up. We rapped off to find the wind had died off and it was downright warm out. We decided the clouds cleared enough to the west to try the Icicle again.

We drove back and watched the outside temp drop from 68°F to around 60°F by the mouth of the Icicle. We stopped there to head to Surf City to climb a few moderate cracks. We started on Paydirt, a nice 5.7 finger crack that I would revisit. I was a bit too tentative on the lead on this one, and I am not sure why. (Must have been the theme for the weekend.) I had a minor slip and even opted not to place gear at one point. Hopefully I can revisit that one with a better head.

Stepping into the finger crack

Adam then led Blunt Instruments which was one of those cracks that does not really require crack climbing technique. It was a bit dirty at the top and also finished with a slab like Paydirt did. (Although the Paydirt slab was a bit more runout.)

After that I attempted to lead another route there called Undertoe. I couldn't get a decent first piece in and so we called it a day. This time we were at The Mountaineers group campsite and had a feast. Ben Evans showed up and cooked a huge pan of bacon chorizo paella.

Sunday I was pretty spent from the weekend (and sleeping on a Z-Rest) that I had the student I was with lead all pitches on Midway. I did not climb well, and even used a piton as a foot hold before attaining Jello Tower. It was nice to sleep in a bed last night.

Sunset

Lost Lake, Found Courage

Yesterday I went on a stunningly beautiful ride - a woodsy countryside loop with the fabled Lost Lake as its midpoint attraction. I'd been hearing about Lost Lake for some time, but could not quite picture what was being described. They said the road around the lake consists of dramatic "rollers" (short, steep hills) that keep coming at you until you don't know which way is up and which way is down. "There is a section where you will be braking uphill, you'll see!" explained theBlayleys gleefully.




After that sort of description, I did not imagine my first ride to the lake taking place on a day with more snow than we'd experienced all winter prior. But that is exactly what transpired.






You know how sometimes you try so hard to avoid something you're scared of, only to end up doing that exact thing? That more or less describes my weekend. On Saturday morning I awoke to a downpour washing away the snow from previous days. The weather report said that the rain would end by mid-day, and that the temperature would rise to mid-50s. I believed it, and set out for a quick ride to Lexington at noon even though it was still drizzling. A few miles in, the drizzle became a downpour again. Then the temperature started to drop instead of rising. And as I proceeded North on the Minuteman Trail, I began to encounter stretches of snow and ice. It was supposed to all have been gone by now, and it was supposed to be warm! But, well, it wasn't. And since I was already en route and soaked, I kept going.





The first couple of times I encountered snow on the path, I got off the bike and walked. But as the stretches kept coming and I got increasingly wet and cold, annoyance took over and I began riding through them - first cautiously, then more brazenly. My narrow tires cut through the slush and cracked the weak ice. The thicker snow was trickier, but I didn't panic and got through it. Before I knew it, I was riding through the very conditions I'd been avoiding all winter. Only toward the very end did the path become completely impassable, and I walked ankle deep in wet snow as freezing rain poured relentlessly.





Soaking wet head to toe, I finally limped inside the Ride Studio Cafe. They took one look at me and brought out space heaters and towels. I removed as much of what I was wearing as was acceptable and sat there shivering and drying my clothes, swearing at the weather.



After some coffee and quality time with the space heaters, my mood improved. Later that afternoon the weather indeed cleared up, and the sun even came out. When I was finally dry enough to ride home, most of the snow on the trail had melted - which made it logical to conclude that I'd be fine doing the Sunday ride the next morning, since surely the roads would be entirely clear by then.






What I failed to account for, is that the Sunday ride to Lost Lake would take us north. And in the North it's, you know, colder and consequently the snow takes longer to melt. Had I realised this in advance, I probably would not have gone. But then I would have missed out on some truly magical scenery and an extremely fun ride. The roads were not bad, but there was occasional slush and ice, and quite a bit of sand. Had I not gone on that hellish short ride alone the previous day, these road conditions at group-ride speed would have been out of my comfort zone. But because I did, I was now (just barely) okay with it. Very cautious on downhills, but otherwise fine.







There were four of us (Pamela, Dena, Emily and myself).We rode at a comfortable pace, the temperature was not too bad, and the scenery was just unreal - endless winding roads through snow-covered fields and pine trees, almost like a staged scene from some winter sporting good catalogue. Except of course it was March, and we were not cross-country skiing but riding bikes.






By the time we got to Lost Lake, I was so full of the day's impressions that I'd forgotten all about its roller-coaster reputation and did not remember until I was already doing the loop around the lake. I have to say it wasn't scary at all, just really exciting. The hills are so steep and short, that after you climb the first one there is really no need to do any work - you just steer the bike and hang on. The first downhill is so fast that you end up coasting all the way up the next hill and then it's downhill again, repeated maybe half a dozen times. And yes it's true that there is one particular section where you have to go leftish on an uphill - but you're flying up that hill so fast that you have to brake in order to make the turn.Fascinating.




I think this ride will stand out in my memory for a long time, not only because of how beautiful it was, but because I was less focused than usual on the aspects I found challenging or scary. I just kind of went with it, relaxed and enjoyed it. I am grateful to have experienced a winter landscape this perfect, and glad that fear did not stand in the way.